Page 24 of Must Love Dukes
Nora and Father weren’t pleased, protesting that she couldn’t miss charades that night.
Dear God.She most certainly could. Her lack of skill at charades was legendary.
But invoking Buxton’s name—and his potential disappointment should she not be ready to work on the portrait when he returned—was enough to dissuade her parents, just as it had Todson. No one wanted to offend a duke.
This morning, Muriel meant to return to the greenhouse and begin to paint, with or without Buxton. She’d no idea when he’d reappear. Also, she had little desire to mingle with the rest of the guests.
“Muriel,” Nora stood at the door. “Are you coming down?” Her stepmother looked towards the canvas sitting in the room.
“I’m waiting on a footman to help me with the canvas, Mother Nora. I’ll be in the greenhouse today. The duke will want his portrait.”
A bright smile crossed Nora’s lips. “We are so terribly delighted, Muriel. I’m not sure…well, it is best not to question good luck, is it?”
Muriel gave her a weak smile.
Father and Nora would be so terribly disappointed when Buxton failed to offer for her. There would have to be a sliver of time, a few weeks, during which they would eagerly anticipate he would call upon Father until Muriel would need to collapse into a fit of tears. Claim Buxton had broken things off. The gossip would spread over London like a plague, enveloping Muriel and making her the subject of a great deal of pity. She’d be left alone for the remainder of the Season. Hopefully.
But Nora would not be deterred forever.
“I’ll be just outside the greenhouse.” Her stepmother lifted the book in her hand, the unspoken question of when Buxton would return etched on her features.
“Wonderful.”
Nora would find another lord in need of a wife after the Buxton debacle. She wouldn’t stop until Muriel was wed.
Pity it won’t be to Buxton.
Muriel stilled at the unexpected—but not unpleasant—thought.
“I don’t wish to wed at all,” she whispered to the canvas. Certainly not to an arrogant, mildly dramatic duke like Buxton. Yes, she found him magnificent. And he had a strange effect on her breathing, but the very idea that the Duke of Buxton and she—especially on such short acquaintance—would suit was absurd.
He wants to kiss me.
“Merely to satisfy his ego.” Pushing aside the thought, Muriel crossed her arms. “I only hope he returns before I start on the radish.”
“Miss?” A footman, the one she’d requested, stood a few feet away.
She beckoned him forward. “Thinking out loud about the duke’s portrait.” She smiled and pointed at the canvas, covered with a cloth to protect the sketch. “Please take the canvas to thegreenhouse and place it on my easel. Don’t allow anyone to look beneath the sheet.”
“No, Miss.” He hefted the canvas.
Her paints, neatly contained in her kit along with brushes, were already in the greenhouse. No reason to keep toting them about. But the canvas, while not heavy, was bulky, impossible to carry down the stairs when one was wearing skirts.
And Muriel was prone to tripping.
After the footman departed, Muriel made her way down the stairs, hoping Buxton would reappear soon. She worried Todson might turn his attention from Miss Phipps. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she missed the duke.
Nodding in greeting at Lady Swindon, Muriel deftly avoided most of the other guests, including Lady Lavinia. As soon as she entered the greenhouse and took a deep breath of orange mixing with all things growing in the dirt, she felt a great deal better. Whipping the sheet from the canvas, Muriel took a step back to study her work. She wasn’t happy with the shape of the tomatoes she’d used for his cheeks. A lemon shaped ear. The olive buttons of his coat. The leaves of his hair were perfect, though.
Muriel felt his presence, smelling of cedar with a hint of cheroot, well before he spoke.
“Doesn’t look much like a radish, Miss Bell.”
Composing her features, since it would do nothing but further his already inflated ego should he see how happy she was to see him, Muriel turned. “About time.” She paused. “Your Grace.”
Buxton’s lips twitched. “I think you missed me.” He leaned forward, close enough so that she could see the flecks of gold sparkling in all that green.
“I was concerned Todson might renew his interest,” she huffed.
